Pesto

There is a hint of melancholy in this sound - as if someone has gazed into green eyes for too long and now cannot remember where love ends and dependence begins. Everything spins like after a sleepless night: calls, pauses, fatigue, a touch of venom, a touch of tenderness. Words race against the beat, as if trying to say everything that couldn't be said face to face.

It feels as if the air has become denser: where there used to be two breaths, now there is only one - with a phone in his hand and a heart that still hasn't let go. And in this pulse, between ‘te iubesc oricum’ and silence, there is not just a track, but that very state when love already hurts, but still seems like a cure.